


The Master

by Sumthinelse



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Chris and Peter are the heroes, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Sex Pollen, pack orgy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:08:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27685391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sumthinelse/pseuds/Sumthinelse
Summary: Peter's colorful youth seemingly comes back to haunt him in a big way.. The pack are hit with a sex pollen bomb and only Peter and Chris are unaffected. Now all they have to do is keep the damage to a minimum.AKA: Peter directs an orgy.
Relationships: Chris Argent/Isaac Lahey, Chris Argent/Lydia Martin, Chris Argent/Peter Hale/Isaac Lahey, Chris Argent/Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Kira Yukimura, Derek Hale/Lydia Martin/Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey/Lydia Martin, Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall, Lydia Martin/Stiles Stilinski, Melissa McCall/Sheriff Stilinski, Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall/Kira Yukimura, Scott McCall/Malia Tate
Comments: 34
Kudos: 200





	1. Collateral damage

**Author's Note:**

> It's a rainy day and I wanted to write something relatively light.
> 
> Google translate is the extent of my Latin. I also didn't Beta this. My apologies, feel free to point out any mistakes.

Chris poured a mixer and some booze into a plastic cup with ice, poured the contents into a second cup, and then back into the original before handing it to Melissa with a wink. She smiled and sipped it before smiling and leaning forward to plant a kiss on his cheek. Scott came up next and Chris poured him some punch, he laughingly pushed the Alpha away when he jokingly went in to kiss him on the cheek. Peter was chatting with Malia and Derek in one corner while Kira and Stiles caught up with Lydia on the couch. Melissa went to chat with the sheriff and Chris poured himself some of the South American rum that Derek had brought back with him. They were in Derek’s old loft, since it was really the only appropriate space for their little reunion.

Isaac came in and dropped his bags as the group shouted a chorus of greetings. He hugged and kissed Melissa, hugged John Stilinski, and then everyone else until he got to Malia, who was introduced to him by Peter and Scott. Chris went over and hugged the young man tightly and was pleased at how grown-up Isaac looked. The party hit full stride with laughter and music when Lydia gestured to a box that Isaac had brought in. Peter tapped Chris on the shoulder and jerked his head at the window. Chris followed the wolf out onto the fire escape where Peter rolled his shoulders uncomfortably, like he was shaking off the social mask he’d been wearing.

“Any news on your little issue in Ireland?” Peter asked and Chris leaned back against the metal railing. He’d left the window open a crack so the hunter could still hear the conversations going on inside.

“When did you hear about that?” Chris folded his arms over his chest. “Isaac and I are handling it, and I think we’ve got a rapport. I sent him a clipping of the living part of the Nemeton as a gift, and hopefully that will appease them. We’ve never had any issues with them in the past, so their hostility towards him seemed more like a…” He paused as Peter raised his eyebrows and looked away. “What did you do?”

“It was ages ago,” Peter said, putting up his hands, innocently. “I was a kid back then and didn’t know what I was doing.” He turned away and Chris glanced inside, debating whether or not he should just ask Derek for the story. Isaac was walking over to the table with Lydia and Chris caught the tail end of the conversation.

“It’s something from a group of pagans in Limerick, Ireland.” He picked up the box and Chris felt a twisting sense of dread in his gut. “I gave them a clipping of the Nemeton as a gift, and they gave this to me. They said not to open it until I was back in Beacon Hills.”

“Isaac!” Chris reached for the window, but Peter’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Too late!” He said as Lydia picked it up. She dropped it, as if it burned and stepped back as the small box, which had looked like solid wood, dropped to the floor.

The next events unfolded in a matter of seconds: Chris saw the box shatter as if it were made of fragile glass, and a bright cloud of purple dust puffed outward, silently. The cloud spread more quickly than it should have and he felt Peter’s arms go around his chest as the wolf slammed the window shut.

“Peter!” Chris shouted as the arms tightened around him and lifted him off his feet. The two of them fell backwards, and as his vision tilted, he saw the cloud envelop the loft, covering the window in a fine, purple dust. It was the last thing he saw as Peter pushed off from the fire escape and they tumbled backwards through the air.

“Get off me, my ribs need to heal,” wheezed Peter from behind and beneath Chris. The hunter blinked as the sound of crinkling paper and plastic registered along with a throbbing in his head. He was curled up in a ball, as he’d landed on his back and his legs had folded over top of him. There was a distinct lack of rotting food smells, so he concluded that they’d landed in a recycling bin, rather than a dumpster, but he fought his way through the bags of shredded paper and piles of cardboard boxes as he flailed his way towards freedom.

Chris pitched himself dizzily over the side of the bin and held his aching chest and head for a moment while his thoughts cleared. He looked around but there was no fire, or screams, or concussive explosions, as he’d expected. The shade of purple, a deep orchid, had seemed vaguely familiar and he shook his head as Peter rolled over the top of the bin and landed in a heap on the ground. Chris left him gasping as he headed for the street. A hand gripped his ankle and Peter, red-faced and huffing, shook his head, frantically as he fought for breath.

Chris hesitated and helped the wolf to his feet, feeling oddly pleased when he noticed a chunk of wood sticking out of Peter’s side. He gave it a quick yank, hoping it hurt as much as being impaled on rebar.

“What was it?”

“ _Flos Passio_ ,” The wolf grunted, hands on knees as he spit out a mouthful of blood and tried to catch his breath. “It’s got other names.”

“Are you serious?” Chris looked up the fire escape. “In a bomb?”

“Could’ve been worse. Honestly, if you mentioned the name Hale anywhere near the Lough Gur stone circle, I’m surprised they didn’t send one with toxic nettle.” He put his hand on Chris’s shoulder to steady himself. With a grunt, the side of his chest seemed to pop back into place where it had been caved in and he sighed in relief. “Sending the Nemeton sprig probably made the difference between agony and possible death and just a complete dismantling of the pack’s interpersonal social dynamic.” He and Chris went back inside and despite Chris’s eagerness to check on the group, he took the elevator while his head stopped spinning.

“How long will it be potent?” The hunter pulled out a handkerchief and tied it around his mouth and nose.

“If it’s volatile enough to fill a room that big in seconds, it’ll cover a lot of area, but only be effective for a minute. The wolves will feel it first because it’s in the aconite family, but the humans will get it second.” They went down the hallway and Chris drew his gun. “What are you doing with that?”

“No wolfsbane, I just might need to slow them down.” He nodded and Peter pulled the collar of his v-neck up through the neck of his sweater and covered his mouth and nose. He opened the sliding door and Chris entered the loft, gun up and checking all corners. Peter came in behind him and closed the door, locking it with the heavy chain.

“Can’t let them out till it’s over.” Lydia, Stiles, Melissa, and the sheriff were on the floor, unmoving. Kira was just starting to stir, but the wolves were awake. Derek was on his feet, but swaying, and Malia was over at the couch, pulling herself up. Scott was in the kitchen, stumbling back into the center of the room and appeared the steadiest on his feet as he helped Malia stand up. Isaac had been next to the box when it smashed, and his proximity had apparently given the effects a head start. He groaned and pulled his shirt over his head.

“We can’t just keep shooting them,” Chris said. And what about the humans?” He glanced at Peter who was removing his shoes and sweater as Lydia and Stiles woke up. “What are you doing?”

“Triage,” he said. “Minimizing the damage, because there’s no way I’ve got enough hands for this.” He looked at the hunter and gave a crooked smile. “Do whatever you need to do to keep Malia off Derek and me, no Hales are producing a Habsburg chin. I’m going up to the bedroom for some lube, try and stall them.”

Melissa and John were still quiet, and everyone seemed to be mumbling to themselves in confusion when Isaac rolled Lydia onto her back and grabbed the front of her dress.

“Here we go,” Peter said and rolled his neck. He sprinted barefoot across the floor, clearing the couch like a hurdler, and leapt halfway up the curved staircase, catching it with his hands and swinging himself onto it. Just as the moaning and panting started.

The Habsburg chin was a real thing. The Habsburg line of the Spanish royal family were inbred for many generations and developed a facial deformity as a result.


	2. Aaaaand Action!

Peter made it to the bedroom and followed his nose to the unoriginal hiding spot where Derek stashed his tube of lube. While being unimpressed with the plain box and flimsy latch in the bedside table, he was pleased that Derek had both an organic, coconut oil-based lube that was excellent for whatever your vaginal plans might be, as well as a rather pricey silicone based one for the people who preferred to avoid anal fissures. Both had long-lasting qualities that suited the discriminating werewolf with both stamina and a short refractory period. He grabbed some towels from the bathroom and returned to the stairs in time to hear the quiet cough from Argent’s silenced pistol and a startled yelp.

“Get Stilinski’s weapon,” he heard Chris say in a low voice that was clearly meant for Peter’s ears alone. “He’s waking up and we don’t need any accidents.”

“On it.” Peter returned to the loft floor and saw Isaac bleeding from the leg. A barely-conscious Lydia was being pulled away from the young werewolf by Argent who dragged her closer to Stiles. Stiles was pushing himself into a sitting position and shaking his head. The redhead was writhing with confused discomfort. Like Isaac, she’d also had a sizeable dose due to her proximity, but the rest of the group had been at least ten feet away from the box when it had opened. It was difficult to avoid because it absorbed quickly in any mucous membranes: nose, mouth, and eyes were all vulnerable and it didn’t take much. The fine dust tended to remain airborne until it came into contact with moisture, so there were clumps of it that settled around the food and drinks, but the ceiling fans had pushed most of it towards the windows. The light that came through the glass was tinged purple, but Peter could see that it had climbed nearly to the ceiling, and likely would have hit every surface if it hadn’t been for the fans.

Peter had to hand it to the pagans, they’d designed the bomb very well. The passion flower was native to the Mediterranean, not Western Europe, so the group based in the Lough Gur area had needed to get creative in their revenge. He reached the Sheriff whose eyelashes were faintly purple as his eyes fluttered open. He wasn’t in uniform and didn’t have his sidearm strapped to his hip, but the last few years following the Anuk-ite had made them all more cautious. He patted the man down and found his second piece that he kept in an ankle holster. Derek was stumbling towards them, eyes on Melissa when Peter lifted her over his shoulder and carried her to the other humans, dragging the Sheriff by one arm and managing to reach the couch before his nephew.

“I’ll slow down the wolves, we just need to give the humans time to wake up,” he barked at Chris as he laid Scott’s mother on the couch. Scott was shambling drunkenly towards Kira who was on all fours, and Malia had a hand on Sheriff Stilinski’s belt.

“Melissa!” Chris called out, as Derek wove dizzily towards the couch, unfastening his pants with his eyes on the curly-haired woman. Peter glanced around, realizing he was surrounded and needed to think fast. Melissa wasn’t moving much yet, the sheriff was waking slowly, Malia seemed intent on collecting the full Stilinski family experience, and Derek was far too close to his cousin for Peter’s comfort. The wolf acted quickly, flipping the kitsune onto her back and knocking Derek’s feet out from under him. His nephew’s trajectory wasn’t perfect, but as soon as the other former Alpha landed with his face on Kira’s thigh, he homed in on the new target, and burrowed under her skirt.

Malia’s ambitions, like her father’s, waited for no one and had a hand down the front of John’s jeans. The older man groaned, and Peter rolled his eyes, grabbing his daughter by the back of her neck, scruffing his pup and tossing her towards Scott, who was just beginning to snarl at Derek for stealing his target. Receiving an armful of any Hale tended to have a generally positive response, and Malia was no exception. Scott’s growls turned into pleasantly surprised rumbles as he went down under the onslaught of aggressive groping and dry-humping.

The two couples who were actively coupling were appropriately distanced in genetics and engrossed in their respective partners, so Peter turned his attention to the pile of humans. Chris was holding both of Stiles’s hands which unfortunately left him unable to simultaneously fight off the clever redhead. Peter calculated Isaac’s progress as the young Beta dragged his injured leg behind him, crawling slowly towards the group using one hand while the other moved inside his trousers.

“A little help?” Chris growled as he tried to shoulder Lydia back from where she was sucking on his earlobe. She managed to get his belt unfastened while Stiles flailed like a frantic octopus to get at, or through Argent.

“I think we should just go ahead and lube every unoccupied hole,” he said. He took the two tubes of lube out of his pocket and held them up. “Ass or pussy?”

“Who first?” Chris had to give up his ear to Lydia in order to look at Peter.

“I’d go with the humans,” Peter said, “The wolves are more resilient, and we can catch them up between rounds.” He glanced back and from his angle, saw the Sheriff climbing onto the couch with a very determined expression. He squeezed a little bit of the water-based lube onto his index and middle fingers, the silicone lube onto his pinkie and tossed the two tubes at Argent, knowing the man would have to use both hands to catch. “Take both, just shoot Isaac again if you need to.” He went back to the couch, glad that Melissa had come over straight from work, because she was still wearing her scrubs. He knocked the sheriff back onto the floor and tugged on the drawstring to her pants as she woke up and ran a hand over his ass.

Peter glanced up at Chris who’d caught the tubes of lube, _martyr_ and had gone down under the onslaught of the two youngest humans. John Stilinski managed to get his pants open and judging by what he saw, he added an extra finger to get Melissa ready for what was coming. He ducked out of the way as the sheriff fell to the couch and slid into the nurse’s mouth. He felt a kick to his upper thigh but when he turned around, he saw Kira’s feet in the air as Derek wrestled her underwear off. Cutting his nephew some slack and offering an olive branch to get them past the whole Peter-killed-Laura-and-Derek-killed-Peter-thing, he pulled off the kitsune’s ugly sneakers and removed the panties. He left the thigh-high socks, because that was just the kind of thing Derek was _probably_ into.

With six members of the group now occupied, Peter turned in time to shout a warning to Chris. The hunter had managed to stand up again between Stiles and Lydia and had his hand up the front of the banshee’s dress which had distracted her from continuing to maul his ear and the side of his neck. Stiles had the man’s pants down and from the noises Chris was making, he was sucking some serious dick. The blowjob was good enough to distract the seasoned hunter so that he missed Isaac recovering and getting to his feet. The young wolf had his own pants down and shuffled forward, erection out, and looked like he was aiming for Argent’s unprotected, and unlubricated ass.

“Watch your six!”

The hunter pulled his dick out of Stiles’ mouth and spun Lydia around, throwing her at the young human. Lydia rode Stiles’s face to the floor as Chris turned and caught Isaac by the cock, making sure his momentum continued. He lowered his shoulder and flipped the young wolf onto his back. Dazed by the landing, Isaac stayed down, temporarily.

“What did you do to the pagans in Limerick?” Argent grunted, as he tucked away a rather impressive erection of his own. He kicked Isaac roughly, sending the tall, skinny wolf onto his front. His pants were already down, and Argent put a knee into the middle of his back to hold him.

“Nothing directly. Out of all religions, I probably respect the pagans the most.” Peter made his way towards them and knelt by Stiles’s hip. “They’re not all stuffy about things like premarital sex.” Chris gave him a _look_ as the hunter lubed up his fingers and reached down to push them between Isaac’s cheeks. “The pagans and witches had been working on settling their differences for years.”

“Decades,” Chris corrected.

“Well, apparently the witches had the edge for most of that time and finally the pagans had a practitioner with certain qualifications that the witches needed. They agreed to bury the hatchet and give over control of the circle for three consecutive full moons if the pagans helped them. It was a big deal for them.”

“Qualifications?” Isaac was grunting and moaning as Chris fingered his ass while keeping his eyes on Peter, who was working Stiles’s belt open and his pants down while Lydia kept him distracted.

“You’re very good at that,” Peter said, nodding at his fingering technique. When Chris didn’t answer, he shrugged. “I was a young American man, doing my gap year overseas. It’s not like I went looking for trouble.”

“You fucked their virgin.”

“We got carried away.”


	3. Flesh for fantasy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The nuance of the plant's effects don't completely escape Peter and Chris's notice.

Chris’s fingers were getting tired after getting Lydia off for the third time, so he switched tactics.

“We need to re-think our approach.” Peter grunted, jerking both Isaac and Stiles at the same time. Chris’s answered was muffled when Lydia sat on his face. He held up a trembling finger for patience and heard the wolf give a long-suffering sigh just before the girl’s thighs tightened over his ears. It was relatively easy to get her and the others to climax, the issue was that it didn’t seem to be satisfying them. The real curse of the passion flower was that it didn’t wear off until the person who ingested it found _satisfaction_ , not just orgasm. 

Melissa and the Sheriff had promptly passed out as soon as they’d finished fucking on the couch. Chris had laid down a line of mountain ash across the narrow alcove that held the kitchen as a safe recovery station. Lydia promptly came when Chris teased her ass while he had two fingers inside her and licked her soaked cunt. He rolled her off him, but found, to his disappointment, that she still writhed and clung to him.

“Lydia’s not done,” he sighed, wiping his face off on his sleeve before slipping out of his previously neat, button-down shirt. He watched as Peter carefully aimed the dueling cocks at each other in order to avoid more come stains on his clothes. Both Isaac and Stiles came at roughly the same time, but, like Lydia, they’d remained hard and restless.

“How’s Malia?” the wolf asked.

“It took her and Scott extra time to get their clothes off,” Chris said as he brought his elbows back to stretch the kinks in his shoulders. “They stuck with oral until he finally gave up and let her have control. They’ve just gotten to the penetrative sex.” He didn’t elaborate by telling Peter that his daughter was riding Scott like he was a derby racer and fingering Kira who was still being fucked by Derek.

“Derek?”

“He’s in Kira’s ass, seems to work for both of them…Okay, he just came, but she’s…not there yet.”

“I was sure Stiles would fall off once he and Lydia had a chance, I mean, who wouldn’t with the way he’s chased her over the years.” Peter looked thoughtful as he dragged both of his charges over to the couch to confront Chris who was carrying Lydia, with her legs wrapped around his waist, over to Derek, who still had a hungry look on his face.

“What are we missing?”

“Get your cock out, start shoving it in some holes, and we’ll get there eventually. It’s not like it’s a love spell, or anything.”

“You first,” Chris snapped.

“Derek’s got a cock ring in the bedside table if you need assistance keeping things on the up and up,” Peter replied, unbuckling his belt.

“It’ll be a cold day in Hell when I go to war in another man’s armor,” Chris replied and Peter laughed.

“It was just a suggestion, I mean, I’d hate it if my sad, human cock was the reason some poor kid died.”

“A cold day, Hale.”

“Whatever you say. What excited Lydia most?” He was eyeing the couch with interest.

“Both holes,” Chris replied.

“I’ve got an idea.”

Most of Peter’s idea ended up being problems for other people, but despite his amusement at Chris’s discomfort earlier, he was very focused. The hunter watched as the wolf tossed Stiles onto the couch and bent to one, knee, smoothly sucking the naked teen into his mouth, keeping him still while motioning for Chris to bring Lydia closer. Chris had to allow Isaac to get a hand down the open front of his jeans in order to carefully steer the petite banshee into the right position.

“Now!” he said and Peter pulled off the moaning teen’s cock with a loud pop. The each took a leg and spread the girl wide, placing her firmly on Stiles’s erection. “Incoming,” He said and Peter ducked out of the way before any part of his body brushed Derek’s cock. He then knocked his nephew’s knees out from under him and pulled Isaac off Chris while Argent reached around Derek and guided his cock to Lydia’s ass. He was careful to make sure the wolf went in slowly and noted that there was something more focused in the way Derek was thrusting. “I think we’re onto something,” he said and turned to see Scott walking towards Peter and Isaac.

“I see him,” Peter said and pushed Isaac to his knees. The true alpha walked straight into the young beta’s mouth, stopping only when Isaac’s lips hit his pubes. “Give me the rundown on what’s happening over there.” He jerked his thumb behind him.

“Malia and Kira are…working things out.”

“Okay, what to we do about-” he began but then Scott came with a roar and promptly collapsed to the floor. Isaac was left swallowing Scott’s come and looking around wildly.

“Who’s left?” Chris asked and Peter gave him a smile. “No.”

“He went to Europe with you.”

“He was in love with Allison.”

“Don’t overthink, he might not even know how he feels. Just do your best to give him what he needs.”

“Are you sure, or are you messing with me?”

“I wouldn’t do something like that to Isaac.” Peter wiggled his fingers. “I’ve been in the boy’s head and I wouldn’t muck around in there. You? You, I’d absolutely fuck with.”

“We just need to end this.” He reached into his pants and took out his aching dick. It had been fondled and sucked half a dozen times already and he’d just barely held back the last time.

“Agreed.”

“Think they’ll remember it?”

“I hope so, I’d hate for nobody to remember how I saved all their asses.”

“Literally.”


	4. Nice guys finish last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nearly there. Hope everyone who celebrates Thanksgiving had a satisfactory one.

Peter steadied Isaac while Chris pressed the head of his cock against the boy’s tight hole. The young werewolf was getting restless and desperate. It had been far too long since he’d been with anyone, and never with someone as young as Isaac since college. He also hadn’t been with a man in a very long time and had to be careful not to hurt the boy. Werewolf or not, tearing someone’s asshole out of carelessness was just plain inconsiderate. He and Peter looked over at the couch where Lydia was starting to make the high-pitched noises that indicated she might be about to finish.

Chris slipped inside Isaac and groaned as the tight, slick heat enveloped him. He felt the wolf tremble under his hands as he steadied the boy’s hips. He couldn’t force Isaac to go slowly, that was Peter’s job, and the older wolf held Isaac’s shoulders, preventing him from ramming himself back onto Chris’s cock. Both men heard Lydia starting to make high-pitched noises as she rode the two cocks on the couch.

“Each person affected by the pollen makes that kind of sound when they’re about to finish,” Peter said, guiding the young beta backwards. “Right before they pass out.”

“You’re right,” Chris said, trying to think of anything except the tight passage surrounding him. “Get him fully on me, then get ready to pull Lydia.” Peter took his directions seriously and pushed Isaac steadily back until Chris was inside him to the hilt.

“Balls deep?” he asked, conversationally and Chris just nodded. “Alright, I’m going for the girl. I have a feeling it won’t end for the other two, but we’ll see.” Peter hitched up his jeans but didn’t bother to fasten them as he approached the couch where his nephew was coming in Lydia’s ass and Stiles looked like he was about to nut just as the young woman let out a loud wail and went limp. He pulled Derek off and out, gave him a quick punch to the back of the head, and then lifted the boneless banshee and gently carried her up the stairs. He had a blanket with him when he returned to the main floor where Kira and Malia were passed out in a pile.

“Get back here, Hale!” The wolf ignored Chris’s plea and draped the blanket over the comatose women and hoisted them onto his shoulders like a burrito. Feet clanged against the metal stairs, and it couldn’t have been easy to maneuver them, but he returned right away. Stiles had gone over to Isaac and was kissing the wolf when Peter reached them. Derek was still disoriented on the floor from his uncle’s gentle love-tap.

“I’m here,” he said and pulled out his dick. He spun Stiles around and shoved into the boy’s mouth. “You think he’s close?”

“Not sure, I’m just trying to keep up with him.” Chris was keeping his pace slow since Isaac would need to come before he did. Unfortunately, Isaac was stronger than Chris and Peter had to grab a handful of his hair to slow him down.

“We can flip him, get his legs up.” They both eyed Derek who was slowly rising to his feet. Timing was everything. “Hang on.” Peter pushed Stiles off his cock with a mournful expression, yanked Isaac forward off the hunter, and together they flipped the young wolf onto his back. “Grab his hips, I’ve got his legs.” Peter held Isaac’s ankles, drew his knees to his chest, and held them open. Chris dove forward and sank back inside the boy.

“That’s it, Isaac.” Chris heard the boy croon softly as he started nailing his prostate. He grabbed his cock and started jerking in time with his thrusts and Isaac started to make the high-pitched keening sound. He glanced up and grunted while jerking his chin at Peter. “Four O’clock.”

Peter caught Stiles’s arms and pulled the young human close. He stayed on his knees, gathering him close and gently kissing him as he fingered his ass.

“I knew you’d come to me.” Chris heard Peter whisper to Stiles. “I knew you’d wait for me.” The hunter was occupied by a deep tightening in his gut as he felt the wolf quiver and spasm around him, shooting come up his chest and belly. He cried out and went limp, and Chris indulged in a few extra thrusts before emptying himself in the boy’s body. His balls tightened up and his whole body arched as his muscles tensed up and he let loose what felt like a gallon of fluid. Physically exhausting or not, it had felt like getting edged and then delayed and then edged again. Beneath him, as he gently set Isaac’s long, skinny legs down, he saw the soft contentment on the handsome, angular face. He truly hadn’t known the Isaac wanted something like this from him, and he hadn’t sought it out, but as his own spasms ended, and he withdrew from the warm, soft body, he found himself feeling relieved rather than guilty. Nearby, he heard Peter start swearing like a sailor.

“Son of a bitch!” snarled the wolf as Derek started shambling towards them. “Why am I the only guy who doesn’t get to fuck someone today?” He took his fingers out of Stiles with a growl of frustration. “If anyone deserves it, I do!” He huffed in annoyance and stood up, dragging a naked Stiles to his feet and turning him around, using the frail body like a shield.

“The anal lube was Derek’s and he seems like a top to me.” Chris tiredly pulled his pants back up and tucked his dick away. He wasn’t fucking anyone else for a bit. “I guessed about Isaac swinging both ways, and the kid’s definitely a bottom, but you had to know Derek-”

“Yeah, yeah. I figured he’d be fine with Lydia’s and Kira’s asses,” Peter griped as he gripped the back of Stiles’s thighs and hoisted the boy, spreading his legs and looking away as Derek’s erection bobbed like a compass towards them. “A little help please? My hands are full.” There was a distinct bitterness in his voice and Chris felt a swell of pity for the wolf and joined them.

“Yeah, can he take this?” Chris asked, steering Derek’s cock towards Stiles.

“I opened him up for me, so he should be fine,” Peter snapped. “Is he high enough?”

“Knees up just a bit, that’ll roll his ass forward. Yup. Almost…aaaand, he’s in.” They both heard the relieved groan when Derek was fully sheathed in Stiles’s ass. The tall wolf took the boy’s legs and started hammering. Peter looked resentful as he held the young human around the chest. “You want me to hold him?”

“Maybe. I mean, I’m still hard here and if Derek’s balls swing forward enough to hit my dick, I might never recover.” Chris helped him adjust so he was able to put a little distance between himself and his nephew’s thrusting pelvis. They both sighed in relief when Derek started making a high-pitched whine as he railed Stiles. Peter seemed a little surprised and hopeful when the human groaned, but didn’t make the same sound. He turned his head and sought Peter’s lips, which the wolf carefully indulged.

Chris stepped away to start the cleanup process with the towels Peter had brought down and adjusted the clothing that were still on several of the members of the pack. He placed an arm back inside a shirt here, and a leg inside a pair of pants there. He attempted to match underwear to owners, and was careful not to fondle when he tucked cocks back inside pants. He returned to Isaac and placed a throw blanket over the boy, carefully re-dressing him while Derek groaned and grunted behind him. A noisy thump a moment later indicated that the former Alpha had found his completion. He saw Peter dragging Stiles back away from his nephew and for a moment was about to offer to help re-dress the human when he realized that Stiles was still actively kissing the older wolf.


	5. Shower

“Where are you going?” Chris asked, but Peter didn’t answer. He just hustled the young human into Derek’s bathroom. Chris shook his head when he heard the shower start running. He went to Derek and fought down a tiny shred of jealousy over the former Alpha having the opportunity to plow three tight asses in one day. He’d put money on at least Kira and Stiles never having done it before. He zipped the werewolf’s jeans up and was relieved that he hadn’t been the one on the receiving end. Chris wasn’t sure what he’d have done if his own ass had been what satisfied multiple people that day. He’d always been more of a top than a bottom, but he considered himself versatile. His eyes kept wandering to Isaac and then to the bags the wolf had brought with him.

Isaac had been planning to stay with Chris, but would he still want to after the passion flower? Chris brushed the thought away as he went to the bathroom to check on Stiles. He leaned against the doorway in front of the pile of clothing the Peter had shed before getting into the shower.

“I don’t suppose you’d hold this?” Peter was waving around the shower wand attempting to point it at Stiles’s ass.

“You’ll just have to re-lube him.”

“I’m fine with that.”

“I had Lydia riding my face after getting fucked, thank you very much. I think you can handle this.”

“Can’t I just have _one_ thing that feels a little bit special?”

“Fine, I’m covered in…fluids, anyway.” He toed off his shoes, dropped his pants and stripped off his t-shirt. He reached for the shower wand and pushed Stiles’s cheeks apart, seeking out the boy’s hole with his fingers. There was no tearing, which was obviously good, and Derek had spent between two and four loads in various people earlier, so his deposit wasn’t significant. “It’s not much, really.” He eyed Peter who was gazing at the young human, with fascination. _Special_. “You’re in love with him.”

“Love?” The wolf’s lip curled when his eyes flickered to Chris’s and he didn’t answer. It made a slightly darker thought occur to him and he voiced it, too tired, and emotionally wrung out to filter it. 

“You didn’t arrange the passion flower, did you?”

“If you and I hadn’t been away from the blast radius, what do you think would’ve happened?” He raised his eyebrows as Stiles clung to his chest. “You know how it ends with passion flower.”

“Far too often in suicide.” Peter nodded and Chris let it drop. “Why would the group want to risk the whole Hale pack just on the chance that they’d get to you?”

“I thought they’d let the matter drop once I’d been burned alive, but who knows with Pagans.” Peter shrugged. “Can you grab the lube?” He batted his eyes at Chris, who’d managed to soap his face, hands and arms. He put his head under the spray, washed the lube and come off his dick and balls, and then hung up the wand.

“It’s in my pants pocket.” He stepped out of the shower, dripping water all over the floor because Derek was a savage creature with no bathmat. He bent over to fish the bottle of lube out of his pants pocket and gave Peter the finger when the wolf whistled at his ass. He re-entered the shower to see Peter bend Stiles at the waist and shove his cock into the boy’s mouth. “Seriously?”

“Got to be thorough,” Peter said with a smile as his eyes rolled back in his head and he came in the boy’s mouth.

“Right, you were just ready to pop.” Chris squirted some of the anal lube onto his fingers and gently rubbed the boy’s hole. He’d already had his fingers inside Stiles earlier and the boy was still pretty tight, but loosened up from Derek. “Or, you want to give him a chance to tighten back up again.”

“He’ll never admit that he ever wanted me,” Peter said, thrusting into Stiles’s mouth as he finished. “Not in a million years will he actually confess, but _this_ happened, and it’s my only chance.”

“If you harass him about this in any way, I’ll put you in the ground.” Chris twisted his fingers and heard the human moan loudly. “I’ll be in the other room.” He picked up a towel and ran it over his limbs and face before pulling on his clothes again. They weren’t clean, but he felt a little better now than he did earlier. He glanced at the shower one last time before he left the bathroom and closed the door.

~

Peter had Stiles all to himself; needy, desperate, and _focused_. He’d been honest with Chris that he knew this would be his only chance. Stiles would never let his guard down, and he couldn’t blame him. In fact, he probably wouldn’t respect the boy if he did, but he was lonely. Sometimes a wolf needed to feel _desired._

Stiles was slick and hot and still tight when Peter pressed him up against the wall of the shower and pushed inside. He made the sweet, high, keening sound that both satisfied and saddened him. Stiles wanted him, or at least he wanted this, but it also wouldn’t take him long to come, so unless he wanted to finish in the boy’s unconscious body, he needed to hurry things up. He twisted Stiles’s face around and captured his lips as he pounded away in his ass. Stiles moaned and gripped his hip, trying to pull him deeper. He felt the boy start to tighten up and hurried to join him, coming hard just as the human’s frail body went limp in his arms. He pulled out, and cleaned him up, before rubbing him gently with the towels.

The rest of the pack was still unconscious when Peter came out in his underwear with Stiles slung over his shoulder. He silently accepted Argent’s assistance with the boy’s briefs, and had the hunter hold Stiles’s pants as he lowered him into the trousers.

“No one’s moved?”

“Not a peep.” Chris looked over his shoulder at where his jacket was.

“What’re you going to do?”

“I’m going to give Siobhan a call.”

“Uh…” Peter rubbed his damp hair, nervously.

“Are you serious?”

“Is she still hot?” He snickered when Chris rolled his eyes. “It was almost twenty years ago, and for the record, I showed her a _really_ good time.”

“Did you call her afterwards?”

“Uh…”

~

Before Chris called Ireland, he called a few of his contacts in France. He’d lost official standing in the hunter community since he’d retired, but the name commanded enough fear, and memories of favors owed, that he managed to get their agreement to back him up. Eventually, he called Siobhan who picked up despite it being almost Midnight over there. She claimed ignorance and when Chris described the box and the gift, Peter verified that she was telling the truth when she said she hadn’t actually given Isaac a gift.

“It’s traditional to wait two weeks before responding. Otherwise ye look too needy. And a good gift is never given in haste, Argent. It takes time to send something…meaningful.”

“Do you ever use passion flower?”

“Are ye mad?” She sounded surprised. “Give passion flower to a child about to get on an international flight? Not in a million years.”

“Fine, you need to talk to your people, and I’ll talk to Isaac when he waked up.”

“Look, if you really got passion flower-bombed, it’s something the witches would do, not us.”

“Would they still be feeling sore about things, Siobhan?” Peter was standing beside Argent and spoke so she could hear him.

“They were plenty sore at _me_ for about a decade, but I was’na ‘bout to be used as a pawn by my own people and allow witches to benefit from my chastity.” Peter looked gob smacked and Chris wanted to laugh. “Peter Hale, you were a lovely and sweet boy, but if you think you were the only one with plans that day, you’re not the sharpest tool in the drawer.”

“It was lovely talking to you, Siobhan. Let me just leave you with this: Who wants you to be an enemy of the Hale pack?”

“They’ve a true Alpha now, Eh?”

“Yes.”

“So it’d be the McCall pack now, wouldn’t it?”

“You could argue that.” His words were clipped and icy. “It’s been Hale land for a long time, and the association is still there.”

“Someone might want us to be an enemy of Scott McCall, or the Hales. Or someone might want to draw the Alpha here.” She hummed to herself thoughtfully. “How long did it last? I saw your young pup a few days ago.”

“Under two hours,” Chris said.

“That’s more than a bit weak for passion flower. Even if it worked as ye say, and covered a larger area, it’s still usually potent for at least twelve hours.”

“Sounds like someone wanted the pack to be pissed but alive enough to seek revenge.”

“Let me know when Isaac wakes up, Argent.”

“Thank you, Siobhan.” He hung up and turned to Peter. “You believe her?”

“The connection wasn’t excellent, but she didn’t sound like she was lying.” Peter and Chris looked over the loft. “We should probably clean this up.”

“Looks like a rave.” They shared a tired snicker and then got to work. Alan Deaton came over immediately when they told him what had happened. He took the remains of the box, collected a blood sample from Stiles and one from Derek for comparison, and then helped clean the place. He sprayed the windows and surfaces with a solvent and told Peter and Chris to wash their clothes in cold water without soap before washing again with detergent if they didn’t want to burn them. He asked about the pattern of events with clinical detachment but was sensitive to the emotional fallout from the effects of the pollen.

“I think it might be helpful for them to wake up separately and to get their explanations from someone with whom they weren’t intimate.”

“Someone like you?”

“If you’d like, but I was thinking you could start by each waking one person you didn’t assist through this crisis.” He looked solemn. “This was a crisis and a potentially fatal attack, despite the weakened substance.”

“You uh…you should probably wake Lydia.” Peter looked at the vet. “Under the best of circumstances, Lydia probably doesn’t want my face to be the first one she sees.”

“Fair enough. You might want to start with Scott. We can’t rule out the possibility that this was a distraction to make you vulnerable to another attack.” Deaton said he had something that could rouse the wolves and likely the humans as well. When he came back from his truck with a set of small vials, Peter asked what they were. And the enigmatic man gave the wolf _that_ look, the one with the hint of a smile and a lot of condescension. “Smelling salts.”


	6. Fried chicken and crisis for the win

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plot creeping in before the wrap up

Stiles woke with Deaton standing over him.

“Am I alive?”

“Yes.”

“Am I still human?”

“As far as I can tell, yes.” The vet offered the young man a hand and helped him sit up. “How are you feeling, Stiles?”

“Horrible.”

“Headache? Nausea?”

“Humiliation.”

“You and the other members of the pack were attacked. Someone gave Isaac what was essentially a bomb that went off in the loft. You were all hit by a toxic substance.”

“Is everyone okay?”

“Yes, they’re all waking up one-by-one.” He placed a hand on Stiles’s shoulder when the young man made to get up off the floor. “Hang on just a few moments.” He turned and gestured, and then then Stiles was being hugged by Scott.

“You okay, Man?” His friend helped him stand up, and he looked around for his dad, who was standing with Isaac. He felt his cheeks heat up when he spotted Peter standing with Derek across the loft. Chris was with Malia and Melissa, who was holding a glass of something that looked strong.

“Lydia?” He rubbed his temples, trying to clear his head and count the number of people in the room.

“She and Kira got first dibs on the bathrooms.” Scott’s dark complexion couldn’t hide his own blush, but he squeezed his friend’s shoulder. “Are you okay? At least relatively speaking, anyway.”

“I think so.” He briefly caught Peter looking at him and flicked his gaze to Scott. “How about you? Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just embarrassed, I guess.”

“We were attacked, like Deaton said. We could still be in danger so we’re going to stay here for now.” Everyone took a turn in one of Derek’s bathrooms and Stiles was happy when it was his turn. They went to their homes to get fresh clothing, and any potential research sources, in small groups organized by “didn’t fuck” in order to avoid awkward conversations. Stiles drove Melissa and Malia and he gently squeezed Melissa’s hand where it sat on the console between them.

“Don’t get any ideas. One Stilinski per day is all I can handle.” With Melissa’s quip, the tension broke and she and Stiles laughed a little harder than they probably needed to.

“What does that mean about tomorrow?” Malia asked, innocently and they laughed again.

“I think our biggest issue is figuring out who had a motive,” He pulled into his driveway and all three went inside the house with him. He changed with the door open and Melissa stood at the top of the stairs, listening to him talk as he pulled on fresh underwear and clothes. He stuffed extras in a duffel, grabbed his laptop, and Melissa joined him in his dad’s bedroom to get John a fresh set of clothes as well. They’d already stopped at the Tate house and the McCall residence where they narrowly missed Scott and Lydia.

Stiles took a quick right turn when he spotted Peter’s ostentatious sports car, and insisted on treating everyone to fried chicken. He checked his text messages and sent an update telling everyone he was getting dinner. A few replies popped up asking for specific sides and no fewer than three for extra biscuits. He felt a little more relaxed when he returned to the loft and saw Derek up on a ladder, rubbing the windows with a soft cloth. He had been the first one up the stairs and Derek gave him a pained look before turning back to his task.

“You planning to come down at some point today?” he asked.

“That depends, did you get original recipe or extra crispy?”

“I asked for a side of fried skin just for you, big guy.” They both cringed at his term. “I’m sorry, that was insensitive.”

“It’s okay.” Derek jumped down from the ladder, landing far too lightly to avoid giving Stiles a pang of envy. “We’re safer together so it’s probably better to push past the awkward.” He rested his hand on Stiles’s shoulder for a brief moment. “Did you get extra biscuits?”

“For the love of God, Melissa and Malia are bringing them up.” He shoved one of the buckets into the wolf’s gut and Derek, bent forward, pretending it hurt. The pack members returned fairly quickly, as no one wanted to be the last one to walk in. Stiles noticed his dad and Melissa in the corner talking to each other with a slightly worried expression on the sheriff’s face.

Lydia was the last one to arrive with Kira and the room fell silent as she slid the door closed behind her. She paused and looked at the room.

“I had to go to a few different pharmacies, but I got enough for everyone.” She reached into her bag and took out a stack of purple boxes. “Take it with food, and if you throw up in the next few hours, you might need a second dose.” She handed one to Kira and placed two other boxes on the table next to the food for Malia and Melissa. She got herself a plate and didn’t look at anyone when she filled it with chicken, mashed potatoes, and gravy. She took two biscuits and a can of diet cola before sitting down on the couch. She opened the box calmly, but Stiles noted the spots of color on her cheeks.

“Okay, I know we’re all thinking it,” he said, drawing all eyes to him, and away from the women who were openly consuming emergency contraceptive, “just for the record, I need to know something.” He looked at Deaton. “Can a werewolf get me pregnant?” He pointed to the purple boxes as Scott spit biscuit crumbs while laughing. “Just let me know if I need to take one of those, because I will.” Like in the car, the tension broke and everyone relaxed. Derek cuffed Stiles on the back of the head and took his place in line behind Malia. John walked up behind him and patted his shoulder as Deaton stood up with Chris to start talking. Stiles noticed Isaac squeezed into a corner, blushing furiously and went to go stand beside the tall wolf.

“What do we know so far?” the sheriff asked the men.

“At a glance, high volatility but very low dose,” Deaton said. “It usually lasts a minimum of twelve hours, even in minute doses. The fact that the associated urges were sated after less than two hours is somewhat significant.”

“How does it work?” Malia asked, bluntly.

“Combination of science and…more than science. The flower has a toxin that can be quite potent, and it blocks impulse control. It’s been synthesized in some areas to make a very mild truth serum, or at least a serum that removes the verbal filter.”

“It sounds a bit like an early form of dementia,” John said quietly, echoing Stiles’s thoughts. “One of the first things I noticed about Claudia was her telling a _very_ off-color joke at A Christmas party one year. She’d have never done that in her right mind.” Chris spoke up next.

“It’s affects the same parts of the brain, but the effects are usually temporary. It also causes some fine motor issues and problems with reflexes. None of you seemed to have that; another indication that it was diluted.”

“How was it delivered?” Derek asked. He was seated on the staircase looking mostly cool and distant, but a few biscuit crumbs in his beard ruined the effect.

“Me.” Isaac put up his hand. “I was staying with someone from the local pagan group that looks after the stone circle out in Limerick. I spent the last day shopping for souvenirs,” he paused and nudged one of his bags with a foot, “I’d hand them out, but I think it’s a good idea if someone else looks at them first.”

“I’ll check it out,” Deaton said and went to retrieve the bag.

“I got back to the house and presented the clipping from the Nemeton before I left, like you said,” he jerked his chin at Chris but didn’t look at the man directly. “One of the guys told me not to forget my stuff on the table and when I went there, this little box was sitting next to the stack of t-shirts. I assumed he meant for me to take it because it had a note on it.” He fished it out of his pocket. “Here it is, ‘Please accept this with our thanks, and open with the pack.’.” He held it out for Deaton who handed it to Peter, who sniffed it carefully.

“Acetone,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “Someone removing their scent.”

“The box felt heavy and solid, like it was made of wood. I stuffed it in my bag and said thanks when I left, I just assumed they gave it to me but I never saw anyone else touch it. When I got here, Lydia asked me what I had, and I told her about it.”

“I got a weird, itchy feeling in my head. Not like I wanted to scream, but definitely like something was wrong.” She held out her hands. “When I touched the box, it hurt.”

“Like a burn, or like static electricity?” Deaton asked.

“Burn. Like it was sitting in an oven.”

“That definitely sounds like magic.”

“What was the goal?” Scott asked. “I mean of the powder. What was it trying to accomplish?” He glanced around the room.

“It drops impulse control, but it also heightens arousal, as you may have guessed. It increases heart rate and other responses, so the person exposed to the toxin feels desperate to quell the urges. They’re afraid to _not_ give in, which is why your common sense won't stop you from doing something you normally wouldn't.” He leaned against the back of the couch.

“Was it different for humans than for the wolves?” John asked, sipping a cup of coffee.

“Not usually, no. The urges tend to be mental.”

“What makes it wear off?” Lydia asked.

“It depends on the person, and a hundred other factors.” Stiles wasn’t the only one who looked uncomfortable. “Proximity is the biggest factor with the actions of the people under the influence, and nothing, not even a familial bond will prevent the primary urge from being satisfied. As far as where you go and who you’re drawn to, it’s more subconscious, like dreaming, or sleepwalking and not directly related to what you're doing.”

“Sleepwalking and other parasomnias are often a result of anxiety. If someone raids the refrigerator at night, it’s not usually just because they’re hungry,” Chris added.

“Exactly,” Deaton said, and gestured vaguely towards Derek and John. “You might be drawn to the people who are the most vulnerable if your instinct is to protect, but those instincts are overruled when you get close to another person.” Stiles understood what the man was doing, and relaxed a little because Derek and his father had apparently focused more on the humans. “you might have something weighing heavily on your mind, like an unresolved conflict or guilt, especially if you were thinking about it right before you got dosed. You might seek out the person who makes you feel safe as well. These are all small thoughts that might direct you in the moment, but again, it’s proximity that tends to be the biggest factor in where you end up.” He gave them a small smile. “Ultimately, don’t overthink it. There are too many factors for just one to have more special meaning than any other.”

Deaton wasn’t lying, but Stiles knew there was a little more to the story. As research guy, he tended to spend hours learning about subjects that interested him, and he’d read a lot about the passion flower.

After several hours of research, Deaton called them and told them that he had identified the strain and that it had a distinctive signature to the spell that unlocked the bomb.

“It was me?” Lydia looked surprised when he told them.

“The box reacted specifically to you,” Deaton said via speakerphone. “I don’t know many banshees, but my sister told me that there’s been a bit of hostility towards those of you who are connected to death.” Before Scott could speak, he continued, “I’ve warned Deputy Parrish already.”

“Why not send a real bomb?” Malia asked.

“Because I’d sense it,” Lydia replied. “That brings death, this might only have death as a side-effect. I’m not a harbinger of awkwardness.”

“If you were, I wouldn’t be able to sneak up on you,” Stiles said, and she gave him a soft smile. “Looks like we have some work to do.”

~

Peter answered the knock on his door and ignored the rabbiting heartbeat on the other side. He looked at the young man who stood in the hallway of his building and silently opened the door wider, waving him inside.

“Hi.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“Two things, I guess.” He was back to wearing his hideous plaid, but Peter liked the jeans. “The first is that I don’t know if anyone acknowledged to you that you and Chris really came through.” He cleared his throat, nervously. “I just wanted to make sure I said something to you, face-to-face.”

“I appreciate the effort.” He stepped a little closer. “You said there were two reasons you came by.”

“Yeah, there was something else I wanted to talk to you about.” He rubbed the tip of his nose. “Do you still have those old books on Mediterranean plants? I’m pretty sure I read them once and I know I saw the illustration of the passion flower.”

“Like most of my information, they’ve been scanned and put on a hard drive.” His mouth rose at the corner. “Can’t be too careful.”

“You don’t have the physical copies?”

“Of course I do,” he snorted, “You don’t destroy something like that.” He went over to the massive bookshelf built into the far wall of the living room. “Was there something in it that piqued your interest?” The young man started following behind him.

“I just want to help,” he said, and stopped short when Peter did. Looking over a broad shoulder, the wolf gave him a knowing smile. “I want to help, but obviously there's always more.”

“That’s closer to the truth.”

“Okay, I’m overthinking.”

“I you’re not the only one.” Peter gestured to the small bar. “Help yourself if you’d like a drink. This book is very delicate, so I’ll have to ask you to look at it here.”

“Thanks.” Stiles took off his messenger bag and set it on the couch and then went to the bar. He poured himself a small amount of bourbon on the rocks and sat on the couch. Peter sat several feet away and set one book down on the coffee table while carefully flipping to the right page. “I remember that illustration.” He pointed to the one of the purple flowers, “It’s not very pretty, is it?” It was a bushy, weedy-looking thing.

“Not to us. It’s appearance is to attract pollinators. Did you wash your hands?” He handed over the book.

“I always do, unless I’ve just used the toilet, of course.”

“I’ll look for another reference. I think there’s one or two mentions of it in a chapter about a hallucinogenic plant that grows a few hundred miles away. I’ll see if I can remember where it was.”

“Why didn’t you get affected?”

“You don’t remember?” Peter looked at him.

“The beginning is a bit of a blur. I saw a cloud of purple smoke and I swear for a second I thought someone had released a genie from a bottle. Then I just passed out.”

“I was on the fire escape. Argent had gone out there and I went to ask him about the Irish pagans.”

“Right. The virgin you apparently de-virginated.”

“You were coherent?”

“No. I asked Isaac. Chris told him about that so he wouldn’t be upset that he’d done something wrong.”

“No, he can safely assume that I’ve made far more enemies than he has in this world, although in this case, it apparently wasn't about me.”

“Well, you certainly took control of the situation.” Stiles looked at him. “You did manage to avoid any incest, which probably kept a few people from wanting to jump off cliffs.”

“I’ve never seen it, but I’ve heard about it. It’s a terrible thing, and Lydia was absolutely right to bring the emergency contraceptives. I can’t imagine the kind of anguish that she or some of the others would go through while worrying about things like pregnancy.”

“Lydia and I got tested for STIs, just to give each other piece of mind.”

“Have you had any trouble sleeping?”

“That obvious?”

“Your messenger bag is smaller than the ones under your eyes.” Peter closed the book he was holding with a snap. “What’s on your mind?”

“I’m glad I didn’t have to make the decisions you did.”

“Triage. Sometimes you have to manage a crisis and make small compromises early on which avoid much larger ones later.”

“Right. For me it's mostly do I lie, suppress evidence, or let people think they’re crazy because other lives are at stake?”

“Are we being philosophers tonight? Should I get more bourbon?” Stiles chuckled.

“No, I suppose in a way we’re playing detective.”

“Are we?”

“Okay, I’m playing detective, you’re the file clerk who gives me the cold cases that I can use to find probable answers to all of my questions.” He picked up his glass and sipped it. “You’re also the kind of file clerk who remembers all sorts of details from those cases and says something off-hand that leads me to my standoff with the responsible party.”

“Something like, ‘Oh, too bad about that kid with the butterfly collection, I wonder what happened to him,’ or something like that?”

“That’s the spirit.” He wiped off his fingers and reached for the book while Peter began thumbing through the other volume. Two hours later, Stiles threw down his notepad, tossed back the remainder of his bourbon and rubbed his hands vigorously over his face as he leaned back against the cushions with a tired groan. Peter leaned forward and picked up the pad of paper, flipping through Stiles’s other notes about the ‘incident’. He had a few pages of details about the people Isaac had met in Limerick and the box itself. He flipped towards the front and found a sketch of the plant and the characteristics of the effects:

_-Protect someone vulnerable- Lydia, Melissa, Dad_

_-Seek safety- Dad, Derek, Scott_

_-Unresolved issues- Derek (Hostility, hotness), Scott(Jealousy, abandonment), Chris(Rough, hot), Dad(Mom), Lydia(Validation, hot), Isaac(Scott/Allison), Peter(Bite, Murder, Malia, Hot)_

“You think I’m hot?” Stiles dropped his hands with a wild-eyed look of panic as he saw the paper pad in Peter’s hands. The man held it away, as if he expected Stiles to lunge for it, but the human just looked tired and annoyed.

“That’s your takeaway?”

“No, the South Indian restaurant around the block is my takeaway this evening, and I’ll order enough for two. The _information_ that stood out to me with your notes is that you think I’m hot.” He raised his eyebrows.

“South Indian?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, do they have those fluffy pillow things?”

“You mean idli? Yes.”

“Okay.”

Peter called in the order and Stiles insisted on walking around the block stating the rules of courtesy: ‘You buy, I fly’ Peter found himself tidying up the apartment and doing a little personal grooming, because fortune favors the prepared. Midway through a gentle sponging of his balls, he sighed and tossed the washcloth at the hamper. He put on a fresh pair of underwear-because you don’t wash your plums and put them back in a dirty bag-and scolded himself. He shouldn’t get his hopes up. Stiles’s comfort with him in his apartment probably had more to do with the fact that he’d fucked and been fucked by multiple packmates and was trying to keep one of them safe.

His lack of embarrassment or shame at finding Peter attractive wasn’t his way of flirting, he just didn’t have any boundaries left. The young man was probably trying to normalize what had happened and looking for a way to return to their previous dynamic. Peter was a lonely old fool who was no better than the sixty-year-old men who think waitresses are flirting and that they have a chance with young, attractive people. He angrily pulled his pants back on and heard Stiles returning with the food. The young man seemed to sense something in his mood because he paused at the door, brown paper bag in hand, and hesitated before coming back inside.

“I can go if it’s a bad time. I kind of invaded and pushed your personal space without asking if it was okay.” He walked over to the kitchen counter and set down the bag.

“I was so relieved to be objectified by everyone,” Peter said quietly. “I know I deserve it, but can you imagine being so starved for touch and affection that on some level you’ll remember this terrible experience with a little nostalgia because Lydia didn’t flinch away from you if you got too close? Can you imagine being such a terrible person that you’re glad you can take a shortcut to earning trust because of a crisis?” Stiles stared at him silently. “Have you ever been grateful for something that could’ve led to tragedy because it gave you an excuse to be intimate with the people closest to you?”

Peter drummed his fingers on the smooth marble countertop and slowly stalked closer to the boy. “Have you ever had such terrible thoughts in your life? Have you ever dragged someone barely conscious into a shower and washed the scent of other people off them-and _out_ of them-because you want so badly to pretend, just for those few moments, that there was something special happening?” He watched the young man’s face. “Have you ever craved understanding? Of course you have, you’re a person. Have you ever spent too much time craving a little understanding from people and later realized that you’ve had it all along, but other people don’t weigh your experiences and suffering as heavily as you do in comparison to your actions?” He thought about what he’d just said and then laughed. “Have you ever realized that you’re a narcissist and immediately felt bad for yourself because 'it’s always about you,'?”

“Yes and no. Several of each.” Stiles made a fist and raised it under his mouth to cough and clear his throat. “If Laura Hale hadn’t died, I wouldn’t have dragged Scott out into the woods that night. I did that because I’ve always had more curiosity than sensitivity. I’ve nearly died a bunch of times, and I’ve been hurt by plenty of people because of my association with the supernatural, but I’m so relieved that I’m no longer ignorant of the amazing things happening in the world around me. I hate that so many people have died and had their lives destroyed, but some part of me likes being…important. Even if nobody knows what I’ve done.

“I’ve got ADHD and anxiety. I’ve technically been a drug addict since I was eight because the drugs don’t just help me, they make me…bearable. I spent so much time thinking that if people could just understand what it’s like to be in my skin, they’d be nicer to me and more tolerant.” He tucked his hands under his armpits and leaned against the far wall, crossing one ankle over the other. “I’ve met little kids who my dad assures me act exactly the way I did growing up and I’ve got a whole new respect for Scott and his endless patience. I stopped resenting Lydia for never acknowledging me when I’ve seen how exhausting it is to have the unwavering, intense focus of someone with my energy. I resented her because she wasn’t seeing me the way I thought she should. I wasn’t seeing her as someone who was capable of assessing me accurately and choosing to put her energy elsewhere.

“I’m so glad my dad works in law enforcement because I can be in the middle of everything and people have to listen to me if they want inside information. I’ve been glad when a crime or an accident occurred because I could be the one to announce it. I loved my mother more than anyone, even my dad, but there have been moments that I’ve been…pleased that I could drop ‘I lost my mother when I was a kid’ into a conversation because I get a little emotional response from people. Not that I wouldn’t prefer to have her back, but there’s the ugly truth anyway.”

“Pretty sure I win.”

“No contest.” Stiles tore open the bag. “Are we using plates or eating out of containers like savage animals.”

“Plates, you heathen.”


	7. Happy Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just Peter and Stiles getting together

“What have you decided from your list?” Peter asked when Stiles showed up the next day. He held the door open and let the young man walk in with his messenger bag.”

“Do you have any books on making magic bombs?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.”

“Thought you might.”

“Help yourself, bottoms shelf on the far right.” He waited while Stiles fished around and then joined him on the couch. “Do you think it’ll reveal Lydia’s enemy?”

“The way the box was heavy, and then became fragile, also the way it only responded to Lydia seems like a very complicated way to do things.”

“I agree.” Peter caught on to Stiles’s way of thinking and used his laptop to cross-reference some of the qualities that the spell would need and found a few possibilities. As the day wore on, he found himself relaxing around Stiles and noticed that the human was also back to his old, sarcastic self. When they finished research for the day, Peter invited Stiles to stay for dinner. They’d had sandwiches for lunch, and the young man hesitated by the door. “Marinated pork loin, rosemary potatoes and you can choose the other veg.”

“Can’t say no to that.” Stiles chose and even prepped the carrots for roasting. He used Peter’s toaster oven since the wolf was roasting the pork at a lower temperature. Stiles cleaned up the kitchen and loaded the dishwasher like a good guest and Peter poured him some port after dinner. After they enjoyed their aperitifs by the gas-powered fireplace, Stiles turned to the wolf. “So are things back to normal?” he asked. “Between us, I mean.”

“Yes.” Peter placed his hand on Stiles’s shoulder.

“Good,” Stiles replied. “I’m going to be out of town for a few weeks, and I wanted to know if I can take you to dinner sometime in the next twelve days before I go.”

“Are you asking me out on a date, or expressing gratitude for the use of my library?”

“I wouldn’t mind the date, but I won’t be offended if you’re not interested and just want to get dinner.”

“Can you tell me why now?”

“Because of the bomb.” Stiles looked a little uncomfortable. “Not the sex we had, but uh…I remember how you managed everyone. We talked about motivation and you openly admit to having ulterior motives for everything you do, but no one would’ve been surprised if you’d taken the opportunity to do a lot more than you did. You seemed to plan it carefully and managed to keep the emotional fallout to a minimum.”

“So the dinner is gratitude for not allowing the pack to be more emotionally scarred than you already are?”

“No.”

“Please forgive me for being condescending, but you do realize that the pollen bomb made it far easier to enjoy what was happening, right?” Peter looked uncomfortable. “I’d love to go out with you, by the way, and I’m not opposed to being used for my body, but I don’t want you to be disappointed if I’m not as phenomenal of a lover as you remember.”

“I don’t remember it being phenomenal,” Stiles set his glass on a coaster on the coffee table and stared at it. “I remember it being rather frightening. I woke up on the floor and I could register that other people were around me and also on the floor. I saw people moving around and being dragged. Isaac was bleeding in the corner. You and Chris were talking to each other and when I could find two brain cells to rub together, I had a bunch of thoughts. I thought we were under attack and I was the last one live, or that everyone was dying because I heard people groaning in pain. I thought you and Chris were making a last stand and that I was going to watch you two die because I couldn’t move.

“My dick was so hard it was sore. When Chris came over to help Lydia and me, I wanted to ask him what was happening, but I couldn’t. I just felt confused and upset that I was clawing at him, and then at Lydia. She acts tough, but I uh… think I might’ve hurt her. I couldn’t stop my hands from squeezing as tightly as I could, or doing everything else as hard or fast or deeply as I could.” He voice choked off for a moment and he cleared his throat. “Lydia had big red patches on her arms and thighs when she woke up. When I went over to keep her company the other day I saw that they were big bruises. I had a few, too.”

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t prioritize bruising, and I didn’t want Lydia to remember me touching her too much, so I didn’t try to hold you and Isaac back.”

“It’s okay. It could have been so much worse.”

“Doesn’t mean it wasn’t terrible.”

“Once I realized what you were doing, you and Chris, I felt a little better. I still couldn’t speak or control myself, and it sucks to be that vulnerable in front of others, but I guess it’s like realizing that yes you’re having a really bad acid trip, but registering that you’re in a hospital, so someone who knows what they’re doing is keeping track of you.”

“I’ve never orchestrated an orgy before,” Peter corrected. “At least, not a passion flower-fueled one.”

“Have you ever been exposed to it?”

“Yes. It was a long time ago.”

“How long did it take you to recover emotionally from it?”

“I’ve always been a survivor.” Stiles nodded slightly. “Is tomorrow too early for dinner?”

“Not for me. I have a plan, but if it doesn’t come through, would Friday be okay?”

“Yes. Is there anything else you want to get off your chest, while you’ve got the chance?” Peter gestured around the apartment. “I’ve got plenty of time, and you seem like you could lighten the load a bit.”

“Are you agreeing to the date to protect my feelings?”

“No.”

“Are you doing it because you want a piece of this sweet ass?”

“I definitely want a piece of that sweet ass, but no. I was surprised by your offer, and I think it would be interesting to go out on a date with you. I think we could enjoy ourselves a lot.”

“Okay, why don’t we agree to not have sex after the date.”

“If by ‘after the date’ you mean that we go in with the intention of sleeping in our own beds that night, yes. I think that’s a good idea. If you mean that once we’ve had our date that you’ll never have sex with me ever, I’ll ask you to postpone it for a week so I can either try to change your mind, or attempt to get you out of my system beforehand.”

“It was the first.”

“Great.”

“Maybe we should get it out of the way now…Just so it’s not awkward,” Stiles said. Peter was standing up, unbuckling his belt before he finished his sentence. “No need to go slow or gentle unless you want to,” he said, pushing the coffee table back from the couch, “but if you cancel the date after we have sex, I’ll be really disappointed.” He reached for Peter’s hips as the wolf straddled his thighs on the couch and took out his cock.

“Oh, sweet baby Jesus.” Peter groaned when Stiles bent forward and started sucking him. It felt like cool water trickling down his parched throat when the warm, slick mouth closed over the aching organ. Stiles moved back, slumped down on the couch and Peter shuffled forward on his knees, gripping the back of the couch. The long, slender fingers dug into his ass and he pushed back into the eager mouth. At the urging of the younger man, Peter started fucking his face in short, shallow thrusts. He pulled out and slid down to the floor, opening his boy’s pants, and freeing the swollen cock inside.

“Yeah,” moaned Stiles when Peter started sucking his dick, “I don’t think I’ll last very long.”

“You’re young,” he replied, pulling off for a moment, “you’ll recover fast enough. Come when you want.” He buried the kid’s cock to the back of his throat and held his hips still as he sucked relentlessly until Stiles spilled. The sounds he’d been making were like music to his ego.

~

Stiles gripped the headboard of Peter’s big bed while the wolf slid lubed fingers in and out of his ass. He pushed back each time the older man hit his prostate and moaned.

“You prepped before coming here.”

“I was lucky the last time, it could’ve been messy.”

The wolf positioned himself behind the human and slowly pressed the head of his cock against the tight pucker he’d just lubed and carefully stretched. He sank in slowly, partly for Stiles’s sake and partly to enjoy every moment of claiming the boy. He watched greedily as the slick, reddened hole swallowed his cock, and then took a moment to run a hand over the pale, freckled back.

“You’re beautiful like this,” Peter sighed. “I want to keep you like this all night.” He slid out and then back in, letting his balls bounce gently against Stiles’s. “I want to make you so messy, and then clean you out and do it again.” Stiles made a noise and pushed back against him, arching his back, and dropping his chest low. Peter gave him another thrust and heard the boy groan. “That’s it, take me nice and deep, Sweetheart. That’s it.” Stiles eased himself down until his face was resting on Peter’s pillows and the long, slow thrusts by the wolf wrung noises from him each time he slid in to the hilt.

Peter settled his hands at his boy’s waist and held on before he started to move faster, thrusting harder and with more purpose. It felt amazing to get so very deep inside his boy, squeezed all around by the slick channel. Stiles had a white-knuckled grip on the headboard, and when he found himself getting close, he carefully pried the fingers off. Flipping Stiles into his back, Peter kissed his surprised mouth and pushed inside again. He lifted the long, slender legs and held them up and open while he adjusted his angle until he saw the boy’s eyes roll back in his head.

“Yeah,” he panted.

“There we are, and I think you’ll be able to come just from this,” Peter whispered, pushing his boy’s knees up just that little bit higher as he began to chase his own climax. Stiles came loudly, spurting up his own chest and Peter shifted back, easing his legs down so he wouldn’t overstimulate the gland while he finished himself off inside. He pressed his chest into the sticky mess, liking the idea of wearing Stiles’s pleasure like a badge. “For the record,” he said, kissing the panting human, “we’re very much on for tomorrow night, or whichever night you want to have dinner.”


End file.
